


Should Be Sleeping

by astano



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-25
Updated: 2012-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astano/pseuds/astano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She thinks she’s dreaming, the first time she hears it; the soft catch of a breath, coming from Rachel’s side of the room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Should Be Sleeping

Santana thinks Coach Sylvester might have been feeling guilty or something for the amount of time she spent trying to destroy glee club because she’s donated the remainder of the yearly Cheerio’s budget to them for their trip to Nationals. It’s looking like it’s going to be awesome, because not only do they have real costumes--as in clothes that don’t look like something thrown together from the backs of all their closets--but they also scored plane tickets to New York  _ and _ **** the correct number of hotel rooms to allow the entire club an actual bed to sleep in.

It really all sounds too good to be true.

They’re leaving the next day and Santana’s just finishing up her packing, throwing the last of her things in her suitcase, when she gets a text from Quinn.

_ Schue’s emailed sleeping arrangements. You’re rooming with Rachel. _

Fuck.

It’s not like she hates Rachel or anything, at least not anymore, but Rachel plus pre-competition crazy is definitely more than any normal person can endure. She’s probably going to end up killing her.  _ Fuck _ .

_ Switch with me? _ **** She sends back to Quinn.

A few minutes later she gets a reply which just reads,  _ Lol, no _ .

“Bitch,” she says to her phone then throws it down onto the bed, going back to packing.

It can’t be that bad, can it? If she restricts herself to just, maybe...  gagging Rachel, she might be able to tame the urge to do serious bodily harm. After all, they probably do kinda need her voice for the competition.

*

The plane journey to New York goes by pretty quickly. Santana sits next to Quinn on the plane and they spend the entirety of the flight bitching about the other passengers – including their own teammates.

By the time they arrive at their hotel it’s late, so Mr. Schue gets them all checked in and ushers them up to their rooms with instructions to get a good night’s sleep.

Santana beats Rachel to their room and claims a bed, throwing her suitcase down on top of it and starting to unpack. By the time Rachel turns up, she’s finished and is sprawled on top of her covers, listening to music and pretending to be engrossed in her phone.

Rachel shoots her a look, but doesn’t say anything other than a greeting and Santana figures maybe if they just don’t speak, things will be okay.

After unpacking, Rachel takes her pyjamas and bathroom stuff into the en suite and Santana takes the opportunity to get ready for bed herself. She’s just slipping under her covers when Rachel re-enters the room and asks if it’s okay to switch out the light. She tells her it is and turns over in bed, burying herself under the covers, back to Rachel’s bed, and begins to doze off.

*

She thinks she’s dreaming, the first time she hears it. The soft catch of a breath, coming from Rachel’s side of the room. Her eyes blink in the darkness and she holds her breath, waiting to hear it again. If Rachel’s having a nightmare, there’s no fucking way she’s going over there to shake her out of it. One time she woke Quinn up from a nightmare and was promptly punched in the face. Quinn apologised and tried to say it was purely reflexive, but there’s no way she’s going to allow the possibility of the same thing happening with Rachel and run the risk of getting a black eye the night before their competition.

The next noise she hears sounds like a stifled moan and that’s when it hits her. Rachel’s  _ fucking herself _ **** while she’s in the same room.  _ God _ . Santana releases the breath she was holding slowly and attempts to stay as still as possible while she desperately tries to  _ not  _ listen to the small noises coming from across the room. It totally shouldn't be turning her on. It's  _ Rachel _ , for fuck's sake and, yeah, they kinda might be friends now, but that doesn't mean she actually wants to go  _ there _ . The thing is, she can't exactly deny the growing arousal that’s starting to build in her body and, if she actually dares to move, she  _ knows _ **** she's gonna find her panties are soaked.

Rachel lets out this tiny, breathy little moan and Santana feels herself fucking clench in response. It's so quiet that she can hear the soft, wet noises coming from across the room as Rachel works herself higher and higher. Santana's fingers twitch by her thigh as she fights the urge to move them. The thought of Rachel knowing she's awake is embarrassing as fuck just on its own. Being caught with her hands in her panties, getting off to the sound of Rachel getting off is just—no fucking way.

She's too hot; her skin is prickling under the covers and she can feel beads of sweat starting to gather on her body. She wants nothing more than to throw off the bed covers off and maybe go take a cold shower or something, but she just bites her lip and hopes to God that Rachel finishes soon.

It seems like her prayer may be answered because Rachel's breathing is getting faster, heavier, and the rustle of fabric sounds a little more urgent. Santana dares to move her head slightly then immediately has to clamp her teeth down harder on her bottom lip to stifle the moan that tries to escape.

She can see Rachel outlined by the soft light coming in through the hotel’s window. Her eyes are closed and her mouth’s parted as she takes in sharp breaths. One of her legs is raised, the one furthest from Santana, so she can see the bulge of Rachel’s hand underneath the thin sheet covering her body. It’s moving quickly and Santana bites back another moan as she imagines crossing the room and replacing Rachel’s fingers with her own; sliding them through the heated flesh between Rachel’s thigh, maybe dipping down and tasting her. 

Before Santana can act on what would probably be a really fucking stupid idea, there's a soft gasp and Rachel’s body stiffens momentarily before shaking with her orgasm and Santana feels her own body shudder in sympathy. After a few seconds, Rachel lets out a small sigh and then everything's still for a little while until she turns over in her bed and appears to settle down for sleep.

A few minutes later, Santana hears quiet snores coming from Rachel's direction and at that, her control snaps. She slides her fingers under the elastic of her panties and sighs in relief as they slip through the gathered wetness. It only takes a few passes over her clit and a rough twist of her nipple until she's coming with a hiss and a muttered  _ fuck _ . She pulls her fingers back, wiping them clean, then twists herself up in the sheets and tries for sleep.

*

The next morning, Santana’s launched from sleep by the sound of Rachel’s phone blaring out an ode to fucking raindrops or some shit that she doesn’t even want to think about. Rachel jumps up from bed and Santana has to stop herself from recoiling at the blinding smile on Rachel’s face.

“Good morning, Santana,” Rachel all but fucking chirps.

“S’not morning,” Santana mumbles. “S’not even light. Why’re you awake?”

“I always get up at five and there’s no reason to deviate from my routine, just because I don’t have my elliptical here. I’m going to go for a run. Would you care to join me?”

Santana laughs. Or produces the closest approximation she can to a laugh before her morning dose of caffeine, which is more akin to a throaty gurgle. “Not a chance in hell,” she says and buries herself back under the covers.

She can hear Rachel moving about, humming quietly to herself, and then the hotel room door opens and closes and she’s left in blessed silence once again.

The problem is, once she’s left to her own thoughts, she can’t get back to sleep. Every time she closes her eyes, all she can see is Rachel from last night in the seconds before her orgasm. It’s ridiculous and distracting and after fifteen minutes of relentless bombardment, Santana gives up on sleep and decides to take a shower then see if any other members of the club are down at breakfast.

*

Quinn's sat at one of the tables in the hotel's dining room with a coffee in one hand and an open book in the other. After ordering a coffee for herself, Santana slides into the seat opposite her.

"Morning," she mumbles, then lets out a groan as the first sip of coffee hits her taste buds.

Quinn smirks and replies, “I know you’re not a morning person, but you look like hell. Rachel keep you up all night talking?”

“ No,” Santana says. “She just...” Her sentence trails off as thoughts surface once more that she’d really rather stayed dormant. Her face must be bright red, she can feel the heat rising from it and if she continues talking, Quinn’s surely going to pick up on  _ something _ .

After a quick sip of her coffee, she feels composed enough to look back at Quinn. “Whatever,” she finishes. “What’s the plan for today, anyway?”

“Last minute rehearsals until lunch, then we’re on at two o’clock.”

Santana already knows, but nods anyway. The conversation lapses then as Santana enjoys her coffee and Quinn returns to reading her book. It’s not long until a few of the others join them and the table becomes crowded with people and conversations Santana can use to keep her mind distracted.

*

They make it through to the next round, which wasn’t all that unexpected, given this year they actually prepared in  _ advance  _ of the competition. Some of the group want to celebrate, but Rachel, with the backing of Mr. Schue, reminds them all that they still have the second half of the competition the following day and it wouldn’t be prudent to be up too late.

Santana can’t disagree, so heads up to her room without further prompting and is already in bed, feigning sleep, when Rachel enters a short while later. She hears Rachel moving about the room, getting ready for bed, then the sound of sheets rustling as Rachel slides under them.

A short while later, Santana hears a sigh, and  _ God _ , she  _ knows _ **** what’s coming next, and she just can’t take it a second night in a row. She coughs, hoping the noise will alert Rachel to the fact she’s still awake, but what she doesn’t expect is Rachel rising up from her bed to glance across the darkened room.

“Santana?” She whispers and Santana can’t help but notice the rough quality to Rachel’s voice--a quality that sends an unexpected surge of arousal through her body, settling firmly between her thighs.

“Yeah,” Santana whispers back, shifting slightly so she can peer over towards Rachel.

“Sorry, I thought you were asleep.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured.”

“Sorry,” Rachel says again. “We should actually get some rest though.”

Santana kind of grunts and turns over, mumbling into her pillow, “Yeah, well I would if you could keep quiet.”

“I’ve already apologised, Santana, and I’d stopped talking, so--”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Santana says and then immediately wishes she’d kept her mouth shut because she really didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t mean for you to hear that and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Santana can hear the embarrassment in Rachel’s voice and she  _ really _ **** shouldn’t be embarrassed because she had no way of knowing Santana was awake, so she quickly says, “No, fuck, I mean, it’s like normal and shit, so...”

“Actually, it’s really just a way to settle my nerves and help me get a good night’s sleep before a big competition... You should really try it.”

“What, like now?” Santana says, but she almost chokes on the words, because what the hell?

“Well, no,” Rachel replies. “I didn’t mean now, that would be inappropriate and I really think that--”

“ Well, it’s not like I didn’t hear  _ you _ **** moaning all over the place last night.” Santana bites her lip immediately after speaking, because she most certainly didn’t give her mouth permission to say that, but it doesn’t matter, because Rachel’s immediately coming back with, “I  _ did not _ ** ‘ ** moan all over the place’, Santana. I was very quiet and you really must have been trying to listen to hear anything at all.”

Santana blushes, she can’t help it, and suddenly there’s this look on Rachel’s face that, well it’s really not looking good for her at all.

“Oh, my god,” Rachel says, and there’s a smirk on her face as well now. “Oh, my god, it turned you on.”

“It did not.”

“Don’t lie, Santana. I’m quite proficient at detecting liars, especially ones as bad at it as you apparently are.”

Santana shifts uncomfortably, because she knows Rachel is right and earlier, just the knowledge that the girl was about to start  _ again _ , had been enough to set her own body off.

“ Sometimes I think about girls,” Rachel then says and Santana jerks her head over to stare at Rachel because this is so not where she thought this conversation was going. “When I’m, y’know...” Santana nods, because she does know and, god,  _ why  _ is the thought of Rachel Berry getting off to fantasies of other women so fucking hot?

“Have you ever--” Santana starts to say, then has to stop to clear her throat because her voice is croaky as fuck. “Have you ever been with one?”

“No,” Rachel says. “Just Finn.”

Santana fights the urge to apologise, because she can’t imagine his technique has improved much in the year or so since her encounter with him. Instead, she says, “You should, some time.”

Rachel sort of laughs a little, then says, “And where exactly would I find a willing partner in Lima? I mean, you’re the only out lesbian in the whole town.”

“You never know until you ask,” Santana says then shrugs.

Rachel gets a strange look on her face, then seems to take in a deep breath before looking intently at Santana and saying, “Is that your way of offering?”

“ Is that your way of asking?” Santana fires back without a moments hesitation, which is kind of scary, because really, before last night, she’d never even thought about Rachel in any kind of sexual manner, but now it’s  _ all _ **** she can think about and if Rachel doesn’t say yes, she thinks she might just explode.

There’s a pause where Rachel bites her lip in a way that would seem shy, if she didn’t look sexy as fuck while doing it, then she just nods. Santana rolls her eyes before saying, ‘What the fuck are you still doing over there, then? Get over here.”

Rachel scrambles to move across the room and, when she’s within reach, Santana grabs for her hand, pulling her down until she’s laying half on top of Santana’s body. 

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” She says, quirking her eyebrow.

“Not really,” Rachel replies, “but I can’t imagine it’s all that different to what I do to myself.”

Santana starts to laugh, but it turns into a surprised moan as Rachel kisses her without warning. She automatically slides her hands up Rachel’s back, pushing up her tank top as she goes and Rachel shivers, already starting a slow rocking of her body into Santana’s.

Santana can feel Rachel’s heat against her thigh and wonders if the girl’s as wet and ready as she is. There’s only one way to find out, so Santana rolls them over and shimmies down the bed. Rachel’s looking at her with wide eyes, like she can’t quite believe this is happening, but her cheeks are flushed and her breath’s leaving her body in quick puffs of air, and Santana’s sure she’s never seen anything quite as hot.

“Take off your top,” Santana demands, even as she’s reaching down to tug at Rachel’s sleep shorts.

“Only if you take yours off too.”

Santana fights the urge to roll her eyes--because where exactly does Rachel think this is going, other than both of them getting naked--then pulls off her t-shirt and quirks an eyebrow at Rachel who just seems to be staring stupidly at her.

“You look like you’ve never seen a pair of tits before,” Santana says, when it becomes obvious Rachel’s just going to lay there and stare at her until she does something.

Rachel flushes then laughs before saying, ‘Well, I have, obviously, but I’ve never--” she trails off, then reaches out hesitantly while saying, “Can I touch them?”

There’s a part of Santana that really, really wants to laugh at that, but a bigger part of her, that she doesn’t really understand, is so incredibly turned on by being asked permission that she sort of just dumbly nods, before realising that they were supposed to be getting naked and, if Rachel’s getting to see hers, she damn well wants to see Rachel’s.

She tugs at Rachel’s top as the girl sits up, and pulls it over her head, it lands on the floor somewhere, but Santana doesn’t care because Rachel’s reaching out again, fingers splaying over her chest as she tentatively explores. Thumbs brush lightly over her nipples and Santana groans, back arching into the sensation.

A few more feather-light touches and Santana can’t take it anymore.

“ You don’t need to be so gentle,” she says and then Rachel  _ pinches _ **** and Santana whole body shudders with it. She collapses back onto the bed, drawing Rachel down with her. Her hands reach up to cup Rachel’s breasts, but she quickly loses track of what she’s doing because Rachel’s fingers feel so fucking good working over her nipples that it’s hard to concentrate on anything else.

Every time Rachel pinches, Santana’s hips jerk and the wetness between her thighs grows until she’s panting and desperate for more.

“Rach--Rachel, can you--” She starts to say, but she’s so turned on she can’t even produce a full sentence, so she just reaches for Rachel’s hand and drags it down her body.

They work her shorts off together, until Santana can kick them away, and God, she’d be embarrassed by how quickly her legs spread for Rachel’s fingers if she weren’t so worked up. Two slide through her wetness a moment later and they both groan.

“God,” Rachel says, fingers teasingly passing through Santana’s folds and up to circle her clit. “You feel amazing.”

Santana really, really wants to tell the girl to just hurry up and  _ fuck her _ **** already, but all she manages is a strangled sounding, “ _ Please _ .”

It’s enough, though, because Rachel takes the hint and pushes those two fingers inside, curling and thrusting, and Santana’s eyes roll back when Rachel hits a spot inside of her that’s just, yeah. “That’s it,” she says. “Just... god... just keep doing that.”

Rachel bends her head to press wet, open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone and down her sternum, and Santana groans, because each press of Rachel’s lips is sending shock waves straight through her body. 

“ Jesus,” Santana says when Rachel’s moves to close her lips over a painfully-hard nipple. “You’re … fuck, you’re driving me crazy.  _ Please _ .”

She feels Rachel smile against her skin and is about to say something else, but she just  _ can’t _ **** because there are teeth scraping lightly over the tip of her nipple before biting down gently and all she can manage is another helpless groan as her body writhes under Rachel’s touch.

It’s ridiculous how fast she’s going to come, but she’s been ready all fucking day and it’s not going to take much more to send her over.

Her hips move relentlessly, meeting each of Rachel’s thrusts with increased force and when Rachel twists her fingers in a certain way and bites down on her nipple just a little bit harder, it’s all over. She comes loudly, hands clenching at the bed sheets and body trembling with the force of it.

When she recovers enough to look up at Rachel, the girl’s got a smug smile on her face and Santana rolls her eyes. “It’s been a while,” she says. “Don’t look so fucking proud.” But there’s no bite to her words and Rachel just continues smiling at her until Santana flips their positions and kisses the smugness off Rachel’s face.

She really doesn’t know if Rachel was bullshitting her about an orgasm being an effective method of settling a person’s nerves, but if she wasn’t, Santana’s about to settle the fuck out of Rachel’s.

And by the look of it, Rachel’s going to let her.

 


End file.
